


Every Single Little Piece of Me

by Iwalkalone258



Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Barry being handsy, Cute, F/M, Sunday Dinner, interruptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 00:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10708614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwalkalone258/pseuds/Iwalkalone258
Summary: She sighs into the kiss, her arms twisting around his neck to bring him closer; always to bring him closer. There’s electricity zapping through his veins and when he kisses her like this she can feel it in hers too.





	Every Single Little Piece of Me

**Author's Note:**

> I am happy I got to finish this. I’ve been working on it for about two weeks. I saw this prompt on Pinterest and I thought of Westallen. I hope you all enjoy. I had immense fun writing every word :)

“You gotta stop doing that,” Barry says taking in Iris’s every movement. He’s leaning against the island, his long legs pushed out behind him with his hands propping his chin up. A honeysuckle aroma elevates into the air and he knows whatever she’s preparing won’t taste as sweet as her. There’s a couple casserole dishes loitering the stove top too and Barry can’t wait to taste their contents.

She’s standing by the sink, her hair in a messy top knot on her head and fixated on her task at hand; preparing a garden salad. Barry licks his lips watching her, a subconscious reflex he’s developed when he stares to long. He wants to snake his arms around her thin waist, press heated open-mouthed kisses to the sun-kissed skin of her exposed neck and make her knees weak but he refrains. He refrains for two reasons; one, it’s their night to host Sunday dinner and two, Joe called approximately twenty minutes ago to let them know he’s on his way.

“Stop doing what?” Iris throws back distractedly, shutting off the water and pouring the washed lettuce into the awaiting glass bowl. She doesn’t get it, and Barry knows she probably never will. Every morning he wakes up with her in his arms, every night he comes home she’s there waiting for him, and every second of every day he falls deeper in love with her. No, Iris doesn’t get it but he doesn’t expect anyone else too either.

“Saying things that make me wanna kiss you.” Iris looks at him then, silently begging him to stay where he is but he ignores her pleas. He pushes off the counter and walks to where she is by the sink. Her hands pause and before she can deter him he’s spinning her around and pressing his lips against hers.

Iris’s lips are sweet, soft, malleable, perfect in comparison to eight billion others. Not that he knows the eight billion others but still. Barry opens his mouth and inhales the air pushing out of her lungs. Iris consumes his thoughts with the potency of her taste alone. _Iris_ . _Iris_ . _Iris_.

She sighs into the kiss, her arms twisting around his neck to bring him closer; always to bring him closer. There’s electricity zapping through his veins and when he kisses her like this she can feel it in hers too. Barry’s arms wrap around her waist and he lifts her into him, holding her up with a hand splayed over the round curve of her ass. Her toes are barely touching the floor and she never gets over the fact of how much larger he is.

“Barry,” Iris somehow manages on a whimper. She wants to reprimand him and kiss him until she’s the lightening speeding through his veins all at the same time. So when he deepens the kiss, his tongue elicits a moan from somewhere deep in her throat. _Damn you Barry Allen_ , she thinks, losing her train of thought about dinner, her father or Wally arriving at any moment. It’s all gone. Her fingers stretch into the back of his head, dampening the hair there.

It's moments like these, moments when he steals her breath from her body that she realizes spending eternity in his arms isn’t long enough. The water from her hands roll down his skin languidly but he’s too caught up in Iris to notice.

When she feels the warmness of his hands underneath her shirt she draws away reluctantly. Her chest is begging for oxygen and her lips are tingling with the taste of him. However, she brushes a kiss over the side of his mouth, mesmerized by the feel of his skin there.

“My dad’s almost here Bear,” She says against the skin of his cheek. “And dinner’s not finished yet.”

He withdraws his hands from under her blouse causing a shiver down her spine. She masks her slight disappointment at the lost of contact but Barry knows her too well. He nips at one of her earlobes and stares down at her with darkened pupils, pupils that resemble the ocean surface on a stormy night. Iris is captivated.

“Do you want me to finish?” His question draws her back to reality and she blinks him into focus, her eyes landing on his kiss swollen lips. Her breath quickens in response.

“No.” She gets out after visibly swallowing. “Let me fini-” She doesn’t get to complete her sentence before Barry is flashing around the kitchen. The air sizzles with his speed, and she doesn’t see his movements but she already has an idea.

Iris’s mouth falls open and she’s appalled. She wanted to be the one to finish dinner. Contrary to popular belief, she loved to cook.

“Barry!” She crosses her arms and pouts, her head tilted in his direction. Before she can repeat his name he’s back in front of her, a sloppy grin on his features.

“All done,” He sounds so proud of himself. So much so that she slaps his arm twice and he fakes a wounded expression, his thick eyebrows scrunching in mock pain.

“Ow!” He mutters, and she hits his arm once more for good measures.

“I wanted to do that,”

“Well I wanna do this,” Barry tags her into his frame causing her arms to fall around his waist. She rolls her eyes but doesn’t resist. He’s so smooth sometimes when wooing her. Iris sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, her hand finding its way underneath the sweater he’s wearing to the smooth skin of his back. It’s warm, familiar and it makes her itch to touch him all over.

“Mhm.” She manages gazing up at him. What is she going to do with _her_ Barry Allen? Is the question she’ll never have a plausible answer to. Iris presses as close to him as humanly possible. His mouth is over hers in record time and she pushes up onto her tiptoes. Any logical person would distance themselves from this type of distraction especially when their family is coming over. But she’s not a logical person - not when it comes to Barry- and he feels so good that getting the table set for dinner lost appeal seconds ago.

His lips, god, his lips feel like heaven and he kisses her like it’s the first time every time. Like he’s learning and relearning the texture of her lips.

There’s a knock but the sound it vibrates through the loft doesn’t register. Both of her hands are on his belt buckle now. All they need is five minutes, she rationalizes, five minutes of uninterrupted bliss. She can get everything she wants in five minutes...until later that is. Iris breaks the kiss to nibble on the underside of his jaw as she undoes his belt, her fingers are drift and moving of their own accord. Not that she’ll stop them. Her name is on the tip of his tongue but someone clears their throat loudly behind them.

Barry’s the first to react by breaking away from her, his breathing unsteady. It doesn’t take him long to normalize his next breathes though. An apple red creeps into his cheeks and his mouth opens slightly. Embarrassment coats every inch of him. Iris already knows who it is before Barry gets his greeting out.

“Hi Joe.”

She presses her lips and mentally berates herself. Dinner was the primary focus, not tearing Barry’s clothes off. Her hands fall away and she licks her lips to calm her racing heartbeat. Pivoting on her heels she spins and smiles innocently at her father.

“Hey dad,” She says with excitement. Regardless of the situation he walks into, she’s always happy to see him. Joe takes a pregnant pause eyeing both Iris and Barry.

“Hey guys,” He replies deciding for his own sanity not to mention or acknowledge what he caught his daughter and his soon to be son-in-law doing. This isn’t the first time and he’s certain it won’t be the last.

“What’s for dinner? I brought a bottle of wine.” He holds up a bottle of dom perignon. Iris chances a glance at Barry as she returns to the sink and notices his fastened belt buckle. She smirks to herself. It never freaks her out; being interrupted by her father or brother but it seems to freak Barry into muteness. The kind of muteness that lulls him into a tense submission and jerky movements. She revels in every second of it. Later when they’re alone she plans on teasing him into her favorite submission of all.

“I made baked honey seared chicken breasts with a sweet potato casserole and green beans,” Iris answers scratching the back of her neck. “If you guys can help me set the table, that’d be great.”


End file.
